


The Destiny of a King

by blueharlequin



Series: Adventures of the Sailing Ship Sam Winchester [14]
Category: Supernatural, The Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Awkward Flirting, Boromir Lives, Boromir might be a little oblivious, Boy King of Hell Sam Winchester, Fix-It, I read the books long ago, I'm sure I'm missing a few, M/M, Pippin sees you flirting Sam, Psychic Sam Winchester, Retcon, Sam Winchester Deserves to be Happy, Sam Winchester Has Powers, Sam is way too good at obfuscation, Sam's also decided that Pippin is his favourite hobbit, Self-Indulgent, Temporary Character Death, Tenth Walker, What are Tags?, but it makes the feels super effective!, do i need to tag this with, hand holding is sappy, handwavy magic stuff, please excuse my sparse knowledge of the Tolkien mythos, see where I'm going with this, so this is mostly movie centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:29:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25345480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueharlequin/pseuds/blueharlequin
Summary: Sam Winchester is magically thrown into Middle Earth where his knowledge of Tolkien's stories may be the catalyst in changing the fate of a certain member of The Fellowship. However, to do so, he may have to embrace some of the more troubling aspects of his own destiny.
Relationships: Boromir (Son of Denethor II)/Sam Winchester
Series: Adventures of the Sailing Ship Sam Winchester [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1425505
Comments: 18
Kudos: 100





	1. No good deed goes unpunished

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the prompt below and my everlasting love for characters who were screwed over and deserve better storylines.
> 
> Prompt: Reality itself is tearing apart at the seams. Other realities are bleeding through, and characters and creatures from games, media, books, etc. are appearing through the gaps. Nobody really seems to care, though. If anything, they’re having more fun meeting their favourite characters.
> 
> In the effort to maintain clarity, Sam offers for the Fellowship to call him by his middle name William since it would be too confusing to differentiate between, Sam Winchester and Sam Gamgee. The characters will refer to Sam as William; Sam will refer to himself as Sam. When Sam is speaking to Sam the hobbit, to also avoid confusion, he will be called Samwise. However, note that since the story is mostly from Sam’s POV, the name William will be used infrequently.
> 
> I write for fun, Grammarly is my beta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Those who help others are doomed to suffer as a result of their being helpful. Wherein Sam does a favour for his brother but a rather large caveat is not taken into account.

It started as a throwaway comment by Dean about superheroes. He had just finished reading a Batman comic and said it as he tossed the book on the table. “Man, I wish there was a spell or something to make superheroes come to life. There seems to be a spell for everything else.” It had been a slow couple of days with no cases and Sam had been a bit too idle. So the suggestion spurred him to look through the stacks. He figured if there was a magical door to Oz then why not a spell or something to other places?

An hour later, he's deep into a manuscript that reads a lot like a crazy science textbook. It goes on about alternate realities, the illusion of time, and matter conversion. Three-quarters of the way through, he runs into the spells. Four hours later and Sam thinks he’s found the one, it’s got a notation for almost every line of spell work. The gist of the spell was simple. It would transport the user to any reality they can think of and they could observe that story until its end. It was not exactly what Dean was thinking but Sam was confident that just the chance to see something like that it would be fun for his brother. He spent the rest of the day carefully writing out each component making sure they have the ingredients and there were no hidden consequences to casting it.

Sometime around midnight, Dean interrupted him. “Sam, you’ve been down here all day. Time to get some sleep.”

Dean had managed to startle him and Sam jerked up from where he was reading. He looked at the clock, “I didn’t realise it was that late. Let me mark my place here.”

Sam woke up early the next day to finish the spell and prepare everything. Around eleven he grabbed some lunch and started a movie. A little relaxation before he attempted something this new was in order. About a third of the way through, Dean knocked on his door.

"Yo Sammy, let's get this show on the road. All your spell stuff is clogging up the main table."

He shut the movie off and followed his brother into the library. Sam took a deep breath and centred himself. It had slipped his mind how impatient Dean could get when he knew he was going to have some fun or get a gift of some kind. He had hoped he would have some time to meditate and review the spell again before they started. Sam made sure he had everything at hand then poured all of the ingredients into the bowl. He lit them with a match and waited until everything was burning brightly before he started reciting the spell. As he finished, the flames abruptly extinguished and he felt something he could only describe as a 'whoosh' of power flow around them. However, nothing happened.

"Is that it?" Dean asked.

"I definitely felt something, maybe it takes a moment, or maybe you have to picture what comic book, or movie, or something you want to be in." Sam gathered up the leftover items and started putting everything away.

"Okay then! I'm gonna go help save Gotham then." Dean sauntered off in the direction of his man cave and Sam paused by his notes to look them over again.

Sam didn't think he had gotten anything wrong but he wanted to make sure. He re-read the spell then looked at the notations again. "Oh shit," muttered as he realised that the night before he marked the wrong place and skipped a line. Looking at the notes he confirmed that the spell would activate when they thought of the fictional reality they wanted to be in. However, the line he hadn't seen was that the subject would be trapped there in the alternate reality if they did anything more than observe. He turned and ran through the bunker, shouting for his brother.

Sam careened into Dean’s man cave. His brother was opening the Batman comic he had just read the other day. “Dean!” he yelled. “Don’t interact!” His brother went wide-eyed as he looked down at the comic again and slowly faded out.

Sam was unconscionably tired later that day, worried that he may have to do something drastic to get his brother back. Several hours later Dean had returned from Gotham, no worse for the wear. It was blind luck that he hadn’t been in the middle of the action when reality shifted and placed him there. Hopefully, when the spell kicked in for him it would be just as fun as his brother's adventure seemed to have been.

A day later, they were hiking deep in the forest trying to find a nest of vampires when Sam lost track of his brother. Sam was armed with a machete and his knife, and as soon as he realised that Dean had given him the slip, he wondered if he was yet again going to go after them by himself. Sam looked around at all the trees and let his mind wander. It was probably due to his recent lack of sleep that Sam’s brain unconsciously thought about the spell and its components. Despite his resolve not to think about imaginary universes, he thought about the movie he had started the afternoon before he cast the spell. He had been watching “The Lord of the Rings” again. Sam muttered a vehement “Fuck” the moment he felt his reality shift and found himself on the forest road outside of Rivendell.

Oh, this was so much worse than Dean’s temporary foray into Gotham. At least Batman was human and there had been no need to interfere. Sam instantly knew things had changed for him. His gun was missing from his waistband and his phone from his pocket. He quickly dropped his pack and searched through it. The syringe with the dead man’s blood was gone, as well as anything technological in nature. Oddly enough, he still had his binoculars, and his compass, which if he remembered the map of Middle Earth correctly, was pointing correctly north.

Sam could feel a low thrum in his veins and that could only mean one thing. He concentrated a bit on a rock in front of him then flung it away. It flew through the air and embedded itself deeply into a tree. Groaning, he realised he probably had all of his demon blood induced powers. Well, at least he had something to fall back on if his fighting prowess wasn't up to snuff here. Sam was half pleased because it might make it easier to navigate this world, but he was also half horrified because he could feel the strange weight of destiny bearing down on him. To have that feeling in a place like Middle Earth had to mean something in the larger picture.

 _‘Just don’t interact with the main characters and you won’t be trapped here,’_ He thought to himself. His plans were immediately foiled when he was attacked by a group of orcs. He managed to throw some of them back with a wave of his hand, but there were too many of them. He was losing ground to them, fighting with only his machete and knife as weapons, when an arrow flew past his head. Before he could even comprehend what was happening, he saw Gimli, Aragorn and Boromir go flying past him, weapons drawn. Another arrow went by and he turned to see Legolas, Gandalf, and the hobbits. An orc jumped out of nowhere and grabbed Frodo. Legolas shouted in alarm, and suddenly Sam knew that this could not happen. He would not be the reason that Frodo died or the ring got taken.

With a feral growl, he jumped on the orc, wresting Frodo away from him. The orc snarled in his face and Sam experienced a moment of extreme calm when his hunter's instincts took over. It was just another monster his brain said, treat it like just another hunt. He roared back and stabbed it through the throat. There were more of them now, headed straight for the halflings and Sam was on autopilot. He waved a hand and the group of them went flying. Then it was attack and move on until he had cut a bloody swath around them. The din of combat ceased and he looked up from his last kill to see The Fellowship of the Ring staring at him. Blood dripped from his nose and he staggered for a moment because it felt like he had been drained. He barely registered the group of hobbits grabbing a hold of him and tugging him along until they stopped a little way off of the road to rest. He was guided to the ground, and he blissfully blacked out leaning against the hard bark of a tree.


	2. A good beginning makes a good ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Start off on a good note to reap the benefits at the end. Sam meets the Fellowship and doesn’t _exactly_ lie through his teeth about why he’s there.

Sam regained enough consciousness moments later to keep his eyes closed yet listen to the voices arguing softly around him. Sam spared a moment to be thankful he seemed to understand Westron, hopefully, it meant they would all understand him. It would not be until later when he overheard Legolas and Aragorn conversing that he would find out that he could understand Sindarin. It would make him wonder exactly how many Middle Earth languages he knew.

“Well we can’t just leave him here; you saw what he can do.” He heard Pippin say.

“We have no idea who he is,” Aragorn replied.

“He’s the man that killed a bunch of orcs in defence of the ringbearer. You know they did not just happen to be scouting the borders of Rivendell. They were looking for the halflings and this man just happened to be in the way,” Boromir argued back.

“Gandalf, is he a wizard? Did you see that?” Sam assumed that Merry made a motion like the one he used.

“Well,” he heard the mage say hesitantly, “maybe we should ask him?”

Sam opened his eyes to the collective gazes of the company. He was a little curious to see if it mattered to the spell the difference between media types since the movies were slightly different from the books. They all watched him as he examined them in turn. Did they look like the actors that portrayed them? Yes, but not exactly. The difference was that Sam knew this person was Aragorn and not his actor, and Frodo was a hobbit and not an actor playing a tiny person due to camera angles. Legolas looked a lot like Orlando Bloom, but he was ethereal in a way that clever visual effects could never mimic.

"Well, you have gotten the measure of our company. Will you speak?" Aragorn was the one to ask the question, but Sam directed his answer to Gandalf. He knew who the most powerful member was and it would only work in his favour if he presented absolutely no interest in the One Ring. He could hear it whispering at him, trying to suss him out.

Sam suppressed an eye roll. "I'm not a wizard exactly. I know some magic, or it would be more accurate to say I have magic," he paused to see if they could actually understand him. Gandalf nodded his head and Sam continued, "I'm a seer. I cast a spell for another purpose, something went wrong, and I ended up here." He's not going to tell them that their journey is a popular book in his world, something in his gut says that the obfuscation is necessary, it is not a lie considering he used to see the future before. Theoretically, if all of his powers are back, that one should be as well.

He saw Gandalf nod, so did Aragorn. The wizard regarded him for a moment and Sam felt a frisson of power pass over him, he refrained from calling him out on it. "So, seer," Gandalf paused dramatically for a moment, "Do you have a name, and can you see what lies before us?"

"My name is Samuel William Winchester," he sighed, "but you can call me William as I believe you already have a Sam in your company." He can stand with being called William. With all the cons they pull, remembering to answer to his middle name would be a cakewalk compared to being called Father Frehley or Detective Page.

"Exactly how much have you seen that you know our names?" Legolas asked with carefully modulated suspicion in his voice.

"To the end," Sam said quietly. He looked at Frodo, carefully schooling his expression to give nothing away. "I know what happens to the Fellowship and the ring."

"What of Gondor?" Boromir asked.

It was a struggle to keep his face straight, "Yes, I know what happens to Gondor and your brother in the course of the journey," he braced himself for their anger. "However, I can't tell you a single thing because it might alter the path you were meant to take."

Gandalf eyed him shrewdly as everyone else squawked in protest. The mage held up his hand for silence, "No, no this is wise. Knowing the future is dangerous, if you change something trying to avoid present heartache, it might cause even greater harm later on."

Sam would not realise how useless those words would be until after much frustration on his part.

"Since you cannot aid us this way, perhaps you should travel on to Imladris to see if Lord Elrond can help you find a way back to your world," Legolas chimed in. Sam could see the elf was a bit unnerved by him. He was not surprised considering elves had a low tolerance for dark things and Sam's powers swayed towards that area.

"Now wait just a moment," Gimli broke in. "It's a bit hasty to consider that."

"I agree," Boromir joined him in his assessment. "Just because he can't explicitly tell us what happens doesn't mean his sight is of no value. Obviously, he was put in our path for a reason, if only to provide the company with another skilled fighter."

Aragorn frowned at the other man. He spoke slowly as he weighed the information, "I am mistrustful of an unknown element. Who knows where his loyalties lie? However, it is not my judgement to make. Let the ringbearer decide."

Frodo approached him tentatively, "You know of the ring's powers?" Sam nodded. "What would you do with it if you had it?"

Sam burst out laughing and narrowly avoided glancing at Boromir and Aragorn to ascertain their reaction. His laugh disturbed everyone except Frodo and Gandalf. The sorcerer rocked back on his heels and watched the proceedings with interest, only then did Sam take a moment to see Boromir noting Gandalf's reticence and Aragorn looking in concern at Frodo. "Sorry, sorry. It was just very unexpected," Sam apologised for his amusement. He looked at Frodo seriously, "This was something I did not see. Mr Baggins, if somehow I came into possession of the ring, I would most unfortunately, have to give it back to you. It is not mine to have." Sam was not lying, he wanted nothing to do with it. He suspected that if he were to touch it directly trouble would come for them a lot sooner.

Frodo nodded, looking contemplative, but it was Pippin that actually asked a question out of the goodness of his heart. "Do you even want to come with us? Don't you have family somewhere that might miss you?"

Merry and Samwise made a considering noise in agreement, the rest of the company startled, then looked to Sam questioningly. "I'm not opposed to joining you, if that is what you want," Sam answered. "I have a brother who will look for me and a dear friend who will worry, but they are used to unusual events happening to me, so this is not too concerning."

Pippin, Merry, Boromir, and Gimli looked a mixture of relieved and pacified. Legolas, Samwise, and Aragorn looked a bit sceptical, and Gandalf and Frodo introspective. Everyone started speaking at once discussing the pros and cons of another companion.

“He’s coming with us,” Frodo declared softly. His voice cut through the others' debate. “I have a feeling he needs to come with us. If he knows the fate of the ring and he is in no hurry to return to his home then it must not be a terrible fate.” Sam refrained from telling Frodo that he was essentially trapped in Middle Earth.

Samwise added, “He defended us even though it would be of no benefit to him.”

Pippin and Merry nodded vigorously, with Pippin adding playfully, "We also need a giant added to our representation!"

That comment had even Aragorn chuckling before he sobered up and said, "Let us make haste, we must not tarry here. These orcs may have others aiding their patrol." They all picked up their packs and made their way back to the path. Sam surveyed the carnage as everyone drifted towards Gandalf's lead.

Taking a moment to search the orcs' bodies, Boromir handed Sam something resembling a dirk. “I think this might be sturdier than the blade you carry." He held on to another weapon that Sam tentatively classified as a longsword. The older man regarded him for a moment, "You might also need this one in the future.” He indicated the sword in his hand but he didn’t give it over. Sam could tell the man was assessing not only his weapons knowledge but also his truthfulness. For some reason, it didn’t bother him. It was the sign of a leader to evaluate the strengths and weakness of people he would be fighting with. Sam also noted that Aragorn hadn’t even bothered to more than grudgingly agree with Frodo before heading back to the road.

“I will admit I am more familiar with hand to hand combat. Where I am from, my people as a whole do not use swords anymore. However, I do know the basics,” Sam volunteered. He knew in his reality he might be considered a master swordsman, but this was different. The men of Middle Earth lived and died by their swords and most likely used them daily. At most, Sam practised only once a month and usually with a katana.

“I thought as much, watching you fight.” Boromir handed Sam the sword along with a belt. “Just wear this for now, so you will at least get used to the weight of it by your side. When we stop for the night, I want to see what you know.” Sam attempted to put it on but struggled with its placement.

Boromir stepped forward and helped him adjust it. Sam blushed as he realised how close the man was. When he had finished, Sam smiled gratefully at the older man who ducked his head awkwardly in acknowledgement. Boromir motioned towards the departing company, "Come, let us join the others."


	3. Discretion is the better part of valour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is better to avoid a dangerous situation than to confront it. Sam tries to keep the Fellowship out of unnecessary danger whilst making sure his involvement isn’t too much of a deviation to their story.

They had made camp in the low brush of Hollin and Sam knew that in a week or so they would start going up the mountain. Gandalf’s plan to make it to the Gap of Rohan would be cut short and Sam hoped he could convince them to skip going through the Redhorn Pass. He was used to making camp with far less than the group was carrying, so he helped Samwise start the fire and watched as the hobbit began to cook dinner. “Is it safe to go hunting?” he asked watching the halfling add some salted beef to the stew pot.

Samwise squinted up at him, “You are masterfully large, I fear we may not have enough.”

Sam smiled, “You do not have to worry about me, I am not fond of meat.” Honestly, he was strangely worried that he wasn’t that hungry even after trekking all day. He felt better just sitting down resting and it made him wonder if he was drawing power from the earth around him. He also wondered if being in Middle Earth was changing him or if it was something else he was feeling. "I do have some of my own supplies, but they may be strange to you and I wouldn't want anyone to get sick. It has been a while since I've used a bow and arrow, but I do know how to lay snares and forage for food."

If Sam remembered correctly most of the flora and fauna would be the same found in Europe. He was thankful for all of the books in the bunker on witchcraft because most of them had detailed diagrams of edible and non-edible plants. In addition to spellcraft uses, they always contained extra notes on medicinal properties and other uses as well. Now that he thought on it, Sam realised most of the things in Middle Earth would be part of his knowledge set only because the spell would include his perceptions of the movieverse anyway.

Legolas began to quiz him on the various plants around them. Sam thought he did pretty well, even if some of his answers were educated guesses. It seemed to satisfy the elf enough that he threw him a little half smile for the first time since they had met. Aragorn had been listening from where he had laid down his pack. After some discussion with Gandalf about nightly watches, the ranger sat across from him. "If you need some practice on a bow, I can lend you mine for the moment."

Boromir joined them a moment later and clapped a hand on Sam's shoulder. Oddly, Sam did not flinch like he normally did when someone touched him unexpectedly. In fact, he had noticed that none of the Fellowship, save Gandalf for obvious reasons, gave him any sort of uneasy feeling. "You will have to wait in line," Boromir said. "William has promised to show me his skill with a sword this evening."

After they ate and cleaned up camp for the night Boromir led him to a clear space just a little ways away from the fire. Aragorn settled himself on a small outcropping of rock near them while Legolas wandered off into the trees. This did not seem to concern anyone so Sam didn't say anything about it. The hobbits arranged themselves in a row like spectators facing them and suddenly Sam felt a tiny bit nervous. Boromir noted his concern and smiled at the assembled gallery, “You lot need to keep the revelry to yourselves. I am trying to see if our friend William knows his sword work, not have a friendly bout.”

They all nodded gravely, but Boromir looked to Merry and Pippin who ended up assuring him again that they would behave for the time being. He raised his eyebrows at the qualifier but continued with the lesson. He pulled out his sword and faced Sam, “Draw and attack me.”

Sam went at him and Boromir fended him off for a moment before warning, “Watch your side.” Sam danced back as the man almost grazed him with a dagger that appeared in his other hand. Boromir indicated they pause and Sam’s breath hitched as the older man stood against his side. “Put your hands here.” He manoeuvred Sam’s hands on the grip, “A little further apart so your hold isn’t too stiff.” Sam was intensely aware that Boromir was not conscious of the salacious nature of his words or that he was abnormally close. Distantly, he thought he heard Pippin snort and whisper something to Merry but his attention was drawn back as Boromir stiffened and moved away. “Again!” Boromir commanded, but this time he attacked first.

Sam parried and he heard Aragorn chime in, “Good, now force him back.” They continued sparring, with Boromir offering bits of instruction here and there, and then ended as the light from the fire burned low.

The older man smiled at him and remarked, “Your footwork is good but you tend to get too close to use your sword effectively. It is probably because melee combat is the style you are used to, but keep that in mind. Otherwise, I would be honoured to have a fighter such as yourself amongst my men.” Sam felt a little warm. He wasn’t sure if it was from the exertion or from the fact that he was pleased with the assessment Boromir had given his skills. The hobbits all gave quiet whoops of approval and clapped softly. The soldier hushed them anyway, but there was an indulgent smile on his face as he did so.

* * *

Sam had his first dream that night, he was even acutely aware that he was dreaming. He thought it was ironic that he was having a prophetic dream, considering he knew what would happen next in their journey. It gave him a bit of hope that maybe he might be able to change things to make the trip less fraught with danger. The dream was simply a dark cloud descending upon them and once it cleared they found themselves blinded by white light. He also dreamt of a white tree shrouded by smoke losing its leaves, then rapidly growing them back when the smoke cleared. That part puzzled him a bit, but he knew it had something to do with Boromir. At least these visions came in dreams and were like snippets of an art film rather than the jarring collection of images he used to get years ago.

Unfortunately, like his psychic episodes before, he awoke with a start and felt a familiar pain in his head. As Sam brought his hand away from his face, he could see the blood glistening in the sparse light of the moon. "Are you alright?" Pippin asked from his bedroll. Sam looked around and spied Aragorn's eyes glittering as he watched them from across the camp.

"I'm okay, Pippin. It was just a dream," he whispered. Even in the darkness, he could see the hobbit frown. Sam pulled out his handkerchief and wiped away the blood. "This is nothing, it happens every once in a while." He smiled thinly hoping it would reassure the halfling. Sam felt something inside him shift every time he used his powers. It did not feel evil, but then again, most of his disastrous decisions hadn’t felt evil either so he supposed his basis for comparison might be a little skewed.

* * *

The next morning Boromir addressed him as they moved on for the day, “My brother sometimes has dreams such as yours. Occasionally they would pain him. Are you feeling well?"

Sam appreciated the concern. Merry and Pippin had given him a once over when they awoke but besides that, no one had asked about his powers or if there were consequences using them. "I am good," he replied. Sam hesitated then said, "Thank you." A peculiar look passed over Boromir's face, but he smiled a moment later and clasped Sam's shoulder reassuringly before he walked away to help Samwise with Bill.

It was midday and they had stopped for a break when Sam realised he had a crush on Boromir. The scene was familiar, and he forgot for a minute what was coming in the apparent delight of the moment. Boromir was sparring with Pippin, the second he heard the man laugh as the hobbits tickle attacked him Sam was gone. He was already partial to the man in the book, and now in this reality by his defence of Sam's integrity when they met, Sam was developing more than just an affinity for him. For a moment, he was deeply afraid and disheartened, Boromir would die like everyone else Sam had developed feelings for. The next feeling was one of extreme capriciousness and apathy, Sam reasoned that the damage was already done. If he decided to do anything about his infatuation it really wouldn't matter in the long run.

His attention was drawn back to the present when Legolas shouted. They all dived for cover as the crebain approached. He happened to land beside Boromir as they hid in the copse and a wicked thought struck him. Sam had some medicinal herbs in his pockets that he had gathered along the way. So he leaned over Boromir to where Pippin was on the man's other side and attended to the cut on Pippin's arm from earlier. Sam almost missed it, but Boromir’s stuttered inhalation alerted him to the man staring at the curve of his neck. He pretended not to notice but deliberately brushed up against him as he slid back in place. Sam smiled at Boromir on his way and he was rewarded by a full-body jerk. Sam also innocently ignored this, but a glance at Pippin told him that the hobbit saw it. The smirk on the halfling's face told him that at least he had an ally in his foolish endeavour.

After they came out of hiding, Gandalf declared that the pass would be watched and they should go over Caradhras. Sam made several doubtful faces and Boromir immediately questioned him. "Your expression indicates that way may end in folly."

“If the crebain are anything like corvids of my world then they saw us long before we saw them.” He smiled ruefully at Legolas trying to convey that he was not slighting the elf’s superior sight. “However, going through the Gap of Rohan would be just as perilous if Sauruman is hunting us. So the choice is between fighting the elements or possibly hordes of orcs.”

Boromir muttered that he prefered the orcs and Sam silently agreed with him. However, they could not deny the possibility in that scenario Frodo was more vulnerable. He felt Gandalf pushing at his mind again. “Stop that!” he snapped at the mage, “I know that out of the group of us, Men are the most susceptible to mind manipulation but it doesn’t give you leave to just root around in there.”

Gandalf looked at him innocently, “You have amazing mental shields, I would never carelessly do such a thing.” Sam refrained from pointing out that there was nothing careless about the way he had tried to fathom Sam’s intent. The wizard went on, “I am curious about your reluctance to go up the mountain, can we take this as a sign that it is not meant to be?”

Sam grumbled, more than a little pissed off that he could not straight out tell them that they wouldn't make it. “Take it however you want, it is a personal opinion of mine. I dislike snow. I also dislike hauling firewood.” He so wanted to tell them what would happen, but he feared that if they didn't make the decision organically then something worse would occur.

Boromir sighed, “Yes, that is true. We will all have to pack some to make it over the pass. It also needs to be wrapped or the snow will make it difficult to light.”

Aragorn declared that they would trek a little more to get closer to the entrance to the pass before they made camp, along the way they would collect firewood. It would be difficult to find any after they cleared the treeline. Sam stayed silent but inwardly he was thinking about his dream. He missed Boromir and Aragorn scrutinising him speculatively as they moved on.


	4. Actions speak louder than words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is done is more important than what is said. Interlude in which the Fellowship learns more about Sam and Aragorn learns about Sam's motivations.

That night, before they travelled up the path through mountain snow, Aragorn entertained the hobbits with a small bit of song from a romantic ballad. So of course, Merry and Pippin asked Sam if he would sing a love song from his world. Sam blushed, "I am a bit better at playing the guitar than singing, but I'll try."

"A guitar, is that an instrument in your world?" Merry inquired.

Sam blinked and thought for a moment, "Ah, yes, it's much like a lute, but a little shallower and less pear-shaped."

"So what are you going to sing?" Pippin asked.

For some reason, the only thing he could think of was "Crazy On You," it had been the last thing playing when they had gotten out of the car. Not really wanting to explain the title, Sam replied, "It's a popular song by a troupe called Heart." He cut out the chorus for obvious reasons and sang it slowly, so it came out sounding less like Ann Wilson and more like reciting lyric poetry.

> _If we still have time, we might still get by_
> 
> _Every time I think about it, I want to cry_
> 
> _With bombs and the devil, and the kids keep coming_
> 
> _No way to breathe easy, no time to be young_
> 
> _But I tell myself that I was doing all right_
> 
> _There's nothing left to do at night_
> 
> _My love is the evening breeze touching your skin_
> 
> _The gentle, sweet singing of leaves in the wind_
> 
> _The whisper that calls after you in the night_
> 
> _And kisses your ear in the early moonlight_
> 
> _And you don't need to wonder, you're doing fine_
> 
> _My love, the pleasure's mine_
> 
> _Wild man's world is crying in pain_
> 
> _What you gonna do when everybody's insane?_
> 
> _So afraid of one who's so afraid of you_
> 
> _What you gonna do?_
> 
> _I was a willow last night in a dream_
> 
> _I bent down over a clear running stream_
> 
> _Sang you the song that I heard up above_
> 
> _And you kept me alive with your sweet flowing love_

Everyone looked intrigued once he finished. Samwise asked softly, "What is she in pain about?"

Before Sam could explain, Aragorn leaned forward and added, "What is the singer trying to forget?"

Sam dug through his memories of Dean's expositions about Classic Rock. He never thought he would have to use it for this purpose, if at all. Sam took a deep breath as he dredged up the information, "There was a war going on when the song was written and many people in our nation were unhappy because we didn't need to have it."

"Did you fight in it?" Frodo asked.

"It was before I was born, but my father and a lot of men his age were in it."

"So it was a war between Men?" Merry asked.

Sam paused, "Ah, yes. There are no other kinds. We do not have Elves or Orcs or Halflings in my world."

The company looked at him in shock. "But you are a skilled fighter," Aragorn pointed out. "What manner of life do you lead to be so well trained?"

Sam frowned as he thought about how to explain what a hunter was, "In my world, most of the killing is between men because of their differences. However, there are creatures like vampires that drink people's blood, werewolves that eat peoples hearts, as well as other things, like the souls of the dead that do not move on. If they kill people, my brother and I hunt them so that they will not harm anyone else."

Aragorn seemed disturbed about the killing, "Is there no way but thus to keep them in check?"

Sam sighed, "There are a few rare instances where they have been able to live peacefully amongst humans. I have let creatures go with this promise but..." he trailed off. He felt a bit guilty and resigned for what he was about to say, "My brother doesn't approve of my pacifism and he is usually proven correct when they start killing again."

There was a brief silence and Sam realised no one had anything to say to that. He was rescued a moment later when Gandalf changed the subject by asking if they had gathered enough firewood for their trek up the mountain.

Boromir slid onto the log next to him. "You do not speak often of your brother," he stated, probably hoping that Sam would offer to talk to him about Dean.

"No," he replied. "I do not have the same relationship with him as you do with Faramir. I am a bit envious of the love you have for your younger brother. Does he know how much you care for him?" He felt a bit devious for steering the conversation away, but he really did not want to talk about his brother.

"I hope he does, although, I sometimes think that I have grown to be as dour as my father. It spurs me to remember that whenever I see Faramir find happiness in something I try to encourage it." Sam watched as he looked into the middle distance before continuing. "I think you and he would get along splendidly. Faramir loves poetry and books and music, and he has spent far more time at his studies than I have."

"You make sacrifices where it is necessary. Book learning is all for nothing if you cannot defend your family against the evils of the world," Sam muttered in response. He briefly patted Boromir's hand resting between them, unable to resist touching him for a small amount of comfort.

Boromir looked at him curiously before nodding in agreement. Perhaps the older man didn't want the bent of the conversation to grow dark as he continued with their previous subject. "You seem to have some knowledge of music. I am curious as to what a 'guitar' looks like in comparison to a lute." Sam drew a picture in the dirt before them and explained the differences between the two instruments. Afterwards, Sam prompted Boromir to continue talking about some of the lessons he and his brother had as they were growing up until it was time to turn in for the night.

* * *

The next morning they began climbing up the mountain and Sam hated it. The cold bit at him and his stomach was in knots over the impending confrontation. He was also a little irritated with the knowledge that they would have to needlessly put themselves into danger before having to climb back down again anyway. He channelled his anger into clearing the snow in front of him.

Sam was a little bit ahead of Boromir when Frodo tumbled back down the slope. He turned right at the moment the man held up the chain with the Ring on it. As Aragorn cautioned Boromir to give back the Ring, Sam stepped up behind him. All the while staring at Aragorn, acknowledging that he saw the man’s hand on his sword hilt. He placed his hand on his belt, not on his sword but next to the knife they had all seen him wielding with deadly accuracy. Sam tilted his head, indicating that if Aragorn cut Boromir down, Sam would fell him right afterwards, his future status as a king be damned.

Boromir stared at it for a moment more. Sam narrowed his eyes remembering his dream the other night. Then, only seen by Frodo and Aragorn, he hovered his hand behind Bormirs's head. Just as Aragorn called out the man's name, Sam concentrated and pushed a little with his powers, trying to see if he could knock loose whatever connection the Ring had made. Boromir startled as if waking up from a trance and handed the Ring back.

As the older man trudged back toward the party, Sam turned to the ringbearer. "He would never hurt you purposely, you know that, right?" Sam looked down at the Ring, "but he is correct, so much trouble, and so noisy for such a little thing."

As they trailed a bit behind the group Aragorn used the opportunity to quietly interrogate him. "What does the One Ring say to you?"

"Lies," Sam answered. "No force in all of creation can gift what it tries to promise me."

Aragorn looked at him sharply, "It does not entice you to use it?"

"No, and that should tell you something, shouldn't it?" Sam shut down the rest of the conversation by picking up his pace to help Merry and Pippin navigate the snow in front of them.

* * *

When the wind picked up and the blizzard set in Sam gritted his teeth in frustration as they continued on. He heard Saurman's spell on the wind before Gandalf and wondered if the old man was as powerful as his book counterpart. The wizard was of no help when sheets of ice and rock started tumbling toward them. Sam flung up his hands and deflected the majority of it off of the side of the cliff but he felt the blood pounding in his head from the sudden rush. Gandalf tried to defend them but the storm raged on. "Can you do anything?" the wizard asked.

"I cannot," Sam yelled over the wind. "The spell the caster has help from the elementals around us so it is near impossible to counteract." Honestly, Sam didn't even know what he was capable of at this point but this was not the time to find out.

Once they made the decision to turn back, the storm slowly lifted as they trekked down the mountain. However, they would not reach the bottom before nightfall. The company would need to make camp but their only problem was that all of the firewood had become wet from the storm. Sam sighed when he realised what he needed to do. Even though he appeared to be getting by on whatever power was imbued in the soil of Middle Earth, it seemed like his power was finite until he rested.

"Here, let me," he gently elbowed Aragorn aside as the ranger tried unsuccessfully for the third time to light the fire. Sam put his hand up and concentrated. He figured it was not unlike pulling a demon from a person. Instead, he focused on pulling the life from the wood, _life_ being the water it was soaked with. For a moment, he thought it wasn't working until there was a sizzling noise and a few splinters broke away from the rapidly drying kindling.

"William?" he heard Pippin ask in alarm.

Sam wiped at the blood dripping from his nose, "Just a little more, Pip. It's okay." He snapped and the wood burst into flame.

"William?!" he heard Pippin cry again.

Spots swam before his eyes as he sat back and murmured, "Don't worry, just need a nap." Sam felt strong arms wrap around him as everything faded into darkness.

He dreamed again as he floated through unconsciousness. This time it was simple and rather terrifying. Sam fell and fell and fell in his dream. It was almost like the nightmares he had when he was a teen, where he would wake up before he hit bottom and his dad would tell him it was because he was growing taller. But this fall seemed to go on forever until he noticed a dim red light in the distance. The glow grew until he realised it was a pit of fire. Sam tried to scream as he plunged headlong into it but the air was stolen from his lungs as every inch of him consumed the flames. Everything came to a standstill as he knelt in this dark corner of his mind and struggled to keep the inferno from escaping his body. The dream shattered into a million pieces and he drifted back into oblivion. In the morning Sam recalled the dream and shivered, masking it as a reaction to the cold. This dream had only been for him, which made him wonder if something had changed in Middle Earth.


	5. Forewarned is forearmed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prior knowledge of possible dangers or problems gives one a tactical advantage. Sam resigns himself to the fact that he won't be able to keep the Fellowship away from creatures of Moria, Meanwhile, the long dark brings back unwanted memories.

After lying there for a moment to recover from recalling his dream, Sam noticed he was actually enveloped in a cocoon of warmth. Boromir was embracing him from behind and the two younger hobbits were cuddled in front of him. He lifted his head from Pippin's mess of curls to look around the other groups sharing the fire. Frodo was sandwiched in between Aragorn and Samwise, while Legolas and Gimli looked like they'd lost a fight as to who was going to spoon who, as they were both tangled in one bedroll but sleeping back to back. Gandalf was sitting by himself, staring at Sam from across the fire. Sam suppressed the urge to roll his eyes and instead closed them. Even though the meddling wizard had probably read his mind to see his dreams, Sam did not care and at this moment he was in no hurry to get up and face the cold.

Before they set off, Sam tried to argue out of going into Moria. Just this once, Sam was going to see that if he actively interfered in their progress, if anything would change. "I'm just saying, has anyone had heard from the dwarves in a while? I mean it's been what like thirty years since Balin left Erebor?" Sam questioned when Gimli declared Balin would welcome them with good food and warm beds.

"We dwarves don't like interacting with other races much. Balin had much work to do to get Khazad-dûm back in order," Gimli defended.

"Well then, why is Gandalf so unwilling to go there?"

"Even if Moria is dangerous, it is nothing compared to going south. As we discussed before, the Gap of Rohan is just too perilous because Saurman is watching and waiting for us," Aragorn answered with a long-suffering sigh. Sam noticed that the wizard stayed suspiciously silent even though the question had been directed to him.

Legolas spoke up as well, "I do not relish the thought of fighting hordes of orcs and sorcery when you might fail us in a fight should you use your powers. They were a blessing last night, but you must acknowledge their limitations."

Sam really had nothing to say to that so he ceased arguing and helped the hobbits pack up their gear. He couldn't very well tell them that if he were to 'power up' it would most likely involve sucking the life out of any evil thing in the vicinity. It was yet another reason he didn't want to go into Moria. His dream last night turned over in his mind and generated a possibility that he did not want to think about at the moment.

Boromir patted him on the shoulder as they headed out and Sam smiled at him gratefully for the silent support. He knew he was going to be grumpy for the rest of the trek but it only increased the moment he observed Gandalf talking to Frodo.

When they reached the door to Moria, Sam refrained from giving away the password right then, hoping against all odds that Frodo would not figure it out. He leaned against the wall and started counting his breaths. He was going to need all the calm he could muster when they entered the long dark.

Sam was jolted out of his meditation by Gandalf's sharp reprimand to Pippin. He pushed away from the wall to join the little hobbit. "Pay him no mind, Pip, he's just angry that with all of his powers he can't open the door."

Pippin looked at him for a moment before he inquired softly, "You know how to open it, don't you? Why won't you tell them?"

Sam looked around, hoping that Legolas with his superior hearing did not confront him, "Frodo needs something to go his way for once. He will be pleased that he is the one to figure it out," Sam lied easily. Pippin looked confused for a moment before comprehension dawned and he nodded in agreement. Then, because Sam was occupied talking to Pippin he missed the moment Merry threw the rock in the water. Sam groaned inwardly as Aragorn stopped Merry from throwing another one. The damage was done, all he could do now was watch their backs.

When the door opened, everyone forgot about looking into the water but Boromir looked at Sam curiously as he was the last to enter. Sam was only keeping one ear on the conversation but he tensed as Gimli cried out in horror and Boromir declared they need to leave. Sam saw the water of the lake breaking and he drew his sword in anticipation. He didn't see when Boromir turned and looked at him in suspicion because Sam was facing the door instead of the mine. Sam knew the water monster was going to prevent them from going back out and he hoped he could get a jump on it so they might still have a chance to go another way. The creature attacked and everything turned to chaos. In the end, the only thing that happened differently was that they prevented Frodo from being dunked in the water. As they ran from the collapsing roof and falling debris, Sam watched in resignation as his last hope to avoid fate disappeared.

Shortly after they stopped because Gandalf had forgotten the way, Sam realised he was far from relieved. All he could think about was how quickly they needed to get out of this cursed place. He sat next to Pippin, sharing the space between him and Boromir. Sam leaned his head back and looked upward, bracing himself on the step behind him so that he didn’t have to stare at Legolas. He smelt the smoke from Aragorn’s pipe, felt the damp chill creeping into his bones, and felt the evil pervading the air around them. If he closed his eyes he could imagine being in the Cage. Sam shuddered at the memory of it. “Are you cold, William?” Pippin whispered.

Boromir turned from where he was brooding and looked at them in concern. Sam put his head down to smile apologetically at the two of them, “No more than you are. This place just reminds me of somewhere unpleasant I’ve been before.”

Boromir frowned then turned to face him fully. “I wondered about that. You seemed unusually prepared for what was about to happen when we entered. Was it because you have been here in a vision?” The man whispered with a small amount of censure in his voice.

Sam could tell that both Aragorn and Legolas were now listening, even though they had not turned towards the discussion, he saw the subtle tension in their bodies to give them away. “I admit that I knew there was something in the water, but since I was not the only one wary of it, I felt best just to keep an eye on our way out if necessary.”

Sam could not help the slight dig he felt he needed to get into the future king. It exasperated him to no end that the only ones in their party who spoke clearly were the Hobbits, Boromir, and Gimli. All of the people who were _not_ in charge of leading their expedition. Sam wished he could speak clearly but every time he did it was totally ignored. If Aragorn had just said something _before_ they entered they could have been prepared for the water monster. If Gandalf had just said something _before_ they entered Moria, Gimli would not have howled his brains out and alerted the water monster.

Sam saw Aragorn twitch. He ignored it to answer the rest of Boromir’s question. “Everything is progressing as I have seen. I’m just not enjoying this particular part of the journey. Moria reminds me of a place I never want to go back to. As Gandalf said ‘older and fouler things’ live here and I am not fond of them.”

“What type of things in your world?” Pippin asked innocently.

Sam sighed, he normally did not talk about the Cage, nonetheless, he stayed as vague as possible, if only for his own sanity, “Demons. I was a prisoner in a place much like this. It was cold and hostile and filled with them.”

“You said there were no Elves or Dwarves in your world, but it seems like there are a bunch of things that we do not have here. Perhaps they are not the same, so you might be okay.” He looked at Sam so earnestly that Sam had to suppress the urge to hug him tight and assure him everything would work out.

“Perhaps,” Sam replied. He tried to rationalise that there was technically no Hell here, so any demons they encountered would not be like the ones in his reality.

Sam tensed up the closer they got to Balin's tomb. Once inside he took stock of their surroundings, hoping to memorise it before the fight ensued. Not a moment too soon, he stopped Pippin from touching the skeleton. However, the motion of Sam grabbing him back disturbed the air enough that it still fell.

Sam was beyond done the moment Gandalf admonished Pippin yet again. "It was your reliance on the foolishness of a Took that brought about this journey in the first place!" Sam hissed back at the wizard. Gandalf looked startled for a moment before his face smoothed back into its usual expression. No one else had the time to comment before they all heard the ominous sound of the drums echo from the depths below.

It was a flurry of motion as everyone took positions, Sam ran up to the door to help bar it and heard Boromir deliver the iconic line, “They have a cave troll.” Aragorn looked at him incredulously as he burst into laughter at the statement.

Both he and Aragorn had to duck and roll away when the troll swung his weapon. Fortunately for Boromir, Sam landed on the side where he was thrown into the wall by the cave troll's flailing. As he was about to be cut down by the orc, both Aragorn’s dagger and Sam’s machete skewered the creature at the same time. Aragorn looked to Boromir and nodded but Sam kept his eyes peeled for any other threats during the brief moment the two other Men shared. Once Boromir's attention returned to the fight Sam helped him up and they jumped back into the fray.

Even Sam could admit he had never been in a fight to the likes of this. Everything moved so quickly that he didn't have a moment to spare. They were all trying to keep the foul creatures from reaching the hobbits and striving not to be overwhelmed.

Once the cave troll had been vanquished, Sam ran over to Pippin to see if he was alright. He knew from experience that being thrown from the top of a raging animal was not fun. Boromir and Merry joined him as he helped the youngest hobbit to his feet. "You alright Pip?"

Pippin smiled tremulously, "I'm okay. What about Frodo?" They all gathered behind the other group and collectively breathed a sigh of relief when they found Frodo unharmed.

The ensuing dash from Balin's tomb had Sam's heart beating wildly for an entirely different reason. He felt the air thicken with a presence he was intimately familiar with. As the first growl from the balrog rippled through the air, Sam trembled, not in fear, but dreadful apprehension.


	6. The road to hell is paved with good intentions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good intentions, when acted upon, may have unintended consequences. Sam outs himself as the King of Hell then very delicately tries to explain what that is while struggling with the implications that his powers in Middle Earth are far stranger than he imagined.

Sam doubted anyone but Gandalf and he could see it, but a thick miasma of evil spread across the floor as the demon advanced upon them. It sang to him and his body unconsciously responded to it, soaking in the excess power like a desert thirsty for rain. Sam felt it thrumming through his veins as the creature roared. He tasted it in the back of his mouth, sweet and dark like blood. As they sprinted toward the bridge Sam held on to the barest sliver of hope. Now that they had encountered something that was the compliment to his powers, he prayed that the events unfolding at the moment would stay the same until they exited the mines.

Sam was still standing on the end of the bridge at the base of the stairwell leading outside when Gandalf confronted the demon. The others were trying to haul the hobbits away, but he could not move his feet. All of the noise and commotion faded into the background as Sam felt compelled to stand his ground and watch. He flinched slightly as the light from the wizard’s staff illuminated the chamber. Then it happened, the whip came out of nowhere and Gandalf clung to the broken bridge looking at all of them in grim determination.

Sam ran back to grab Gandalf, but the wizard urged them to run and then fell. Frodo screamed in despair as he disappeared into depths, but not a moment later the demon reappeared, beating its massive wings to rise back up from the pit. Just when they thought they were done for Sam stepped forward and addressed the demon. “STOP!” his voice echoed weirdly through the chamber.

The temperature plunged and Sam felt his eyes bleed into black even without demon blood. The Fellowship saw their breath puff out in clouds as it froze on the air. Sam was mildly horrified yet secretly pleased that he seemed to be draining power from the demon to fuel his own. He pushed aside the conflicting emotions for examination later, the situation at hand demanded his utter focus. The demon halted and screamed in confusion tinged with fear. “Do you know who I am?” Sam bellowed.

The balrog cringed as Sam walked forward with his arm outstretched. The demon hesitated as it evaluated this new threat. Unbidden, a spell from the recesses of his mind jumped to Sam's lips. He started to chant in Enochian, but it was strangely formed and slightly different than the language the archangels had used. The balrog screeched in pain, lifted its wings, and hopped off the edge of the broken bridge, descending quickly into the chasm. Its hasty retreat didn't stop Sam from harnessing every bit of power it had, and its body extinguished into black motes of dust, only visible to him because he knew what to look for.

The others probably believed that the demon retreated below, they had no way of knowing that Sam just drank the essence of the demon dry without even touching it. It made him exhilarated and sick at the same time since it was not unlike drinking demon blood. However, the putrid and disgusting craving he felt with that was not present, instead, the thrill of something akin to the adrenaline rush of a good hunt filled him.

For a moment he felt like throwing himself into the abyss, as there was yet another balrog in the pits below, most likely the mate of the one they just confronted. He restrained himself because he knew that Gandalf needed to fight that one and make his transformation. Again, the circumstances shifted and corrected themselves to follow the path of the story once more. He turned back to the company with his head ducked low, but he knew they were all staring at him.

“How is it that you can command the evils of the deep? Why didn't you do that sooner?” Aragorn asked in an angrily anguished tone.

“I didn't know until just then. I’ll explain later, we should get out of here,” he muttered turning his head to the side. He didn’t want them to see him like this. His black eyes caught Boromir’s gaze for a split second and he saw the man’s shock pass through him, but besides a quick inhalation, Boromir said nothing. Sam knew it was okay to look up again when the chill of the room ceased its freezing grip and returned to the damp cold of before.

The arrows from their foes started whizzing by again and Sam followed them up the stairs and out the door. He knew what was going to happen next and he just stood there forlornly as Boromir consoled Gimli in his anguish and tried to comfort the other hobbits. Aragorn glared at him briefly before he yelled at Legolas. Sam ignored them to watch as Frodo walked away from them. He knew the Halfling was going to continue on his own but he didn’t have it in him to go after him. He heard Aragorn mention Lothlorien and internally cringed. The elves would find him just as unsettling just as Legolas did. Passing through the forest might be painful for him, as he considered the new and strange nature of his powers coupled with what just happened.

* * *

“You bring great evil with you,” the elf addressed Frodo, but Sam saw him flick his eyes toward him for a second. He hoped that if he did not present a threat that they will let him pass through with the others. The incident with the Balrog made it clear to him that no matter how he tried to alter the story, it will not work unless he exercised his powers. It would deviate a bit but then it would snap back to close to the original events in the end.

They waited while Aragorn spoke to Haldir. It was hard for Sam to ignore the angry whispered conversation in Sindarin due to the growing unease he was feeling. He was right about magic soaked into the woods, it was the antithesis to his own. When it was time for Haldir lead them deeper into the forest, Sam would have to sublimate the pain into the will to keep going. 

Haldir showed them to a large platform which looked like a meeting area, he then departed without a word. Aragorn turned to them, "We will camp here for the night, in the morn, they will take us to Caras Galadhon."

After they ate and arranged their gear for the night, the group gathered together in a loose circle. They all looked to him, but it was Aragorn who spoke. “Explain. What happened as we were escaping?”

Sam felt Boromir’s eyes drilling in into him, wondering if he’ll explain what he saw. Sam went for the highly edited truth. “In my world, there are four realms, one where all living things dwell and three where all dead things go. If you were evil, you go to Hell, good people go to Heaven, and creatures go to Purgatory. Each of these places has a ruler, but in Hell the king is absent.”

 _“Well, that is one way to put it,”_ Sam thought. “I was chosen, without my knowledge or consent,” Sam felt that was very important to point out, “to rule in his place. So, I was given the same powers he had. Hell is the same place demons dwell. It was what I was reminded of when we were in Moria.”

Legolas broke his customary stillness, Sam could tell he was unsettled, “The spell you spoke to banish the demon, it was not like Black Speech at all but it felt like it was wrong in some way.”

“Ah,” Sam nodded, “It is called Enochian, I have never used it in that way either.” They all looked at him in confusion and he realised he would have to explain. Sam took a deep breath and searched for the terms that might help them understand. “There are beings in my world called angels, you would probably call them Maiar. The chief amongst them rebelled and God, kind of like your Valar, cast him into Hell to rule there as a punishment. I spent a year imprisoned with him when I refused to take over his kingdom.” Sam was not going to go into the intricacies of Hell time, but somehow talking about the Cage with them was not fraught with the emotional landmines that he normally encountered. “During that time, I learned many things, their language and spells to go with it. However, I lost most of my memories of it when I was rescued.” He sighed when he thought about the time he had spent in the mental hospital. He also realised that even he no longer knew exactly what he was capable of. His powers in Middle Earth were ever-evolving and now that he had encountered a demon, it felt as if they would only grow into something unfathomable. He tore his concentration back to the matter at hand. “Anyway, the current Steward of Hell is happy with the knowledge that I have no intentions of claiming the throne despite the amount of power I could wield.”

Sam hoped that would be explanation enough. He looked around making sure they were still following him. Boromir looked contemplative, Aragorn alarmed and the hobbits stared at him in wonder.

“So, does that make you evil?” Merri asked.

Pippin cuffed him on the arm, “of course not,” he turned back to Sam, “If you didn’t want it, that means you are good.”

Sam spoke the next words specifically for Frodo and Boromir, but if recent events were indicative, they would go unheeded. “Not exactly,” he said honestly. "It is a struggle. I believe I am a good man and that I want to do the right thing. However, the power that I have is seductive, and it wants me to use it and not always in positive ways. I try my best to fight against it, but sometimes I fail. I don’t believe it means I am evil. It’s only wrong if I succumb completely and stop trying to do the right thing.” His moral diatribe over, Sam gave them the only comfort he could, “I realise quite acutely I do not belong here, but I can tell you I have only ever tried to help in the ways I know I can. I know that everyone is hurting at the moment, but If I had known that I could do that, I would have spared everyone this pain.”

Aragorn surprised him with his next words, “Thank you for your honesty.” The future king looked introspective as he continued, “I feel that was not easy for you to share, and even though we are frustrated with the knowledge that you must withhold the future from us, I understand now that it causes you great pain to do so. It is a great burden you bear and I realise that in many ways I have judged you too harshly.” He looked around at the company, “I think I can speak for everyone when I say I am hopeful that you continue on with us.” Sam nodded, marvelling at the Man’s change of heart but still grateful for the acknowledgement of faith.

Aragorn’s words seemed to close the subject and a contemplative silence descended over the group as they all moved toward their bedrolls for the night. It warmed Sam’s heart, which had been freezing itself over in anticipation of rejection, to see that Boromir, as well as Merry and Pippin still choose to bunk down next to him. For the first time in ages, Sam slept through the night without the weight of guilt or recrimination plaguing his dreams.


	7. All roads lead to Rome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The same outcome can be reached by many methods or ideas. Sam now realises that honesty will get him further than nondisclosure and a certain amount of directness ends up working in his favour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and here we go!

Sam isn’t dazzled at all by the shining pair that the lord and lady present. However, he does have enough sense to respectfully dip his head in acknowledgement of their authority. They are, for the short and long of it, allowing them safe passage and proving them with accommodations. He’s not as foolish as Gimli to scorn others’ goodwill, though he does look forward to the dwarf’s changed tune after this encounter.

"Nine set out from Rivendell and nine have arrived. Tell me where is Gandalf, for I do not see him here.” Celeborn intoned. Sam tuned out for the moment, trying to fight past the white-hot pain in his limbs. It wasn’t until he heard Boromir’s breath hitch next to him that he came back to the scene at hand. He realised this was the part where the Lady of Lothlorien stripped them of their facades. She didn’t so much as terrify him as inspire an imminent sense of foreboding.

As Galadriel stared at Boromir, Sam stepped in front of the other man and broke her gaze. He heard Boromir swallow a sob behind him. He remembered what she had said to him, and struggled to let it not colour his feelings. He knew the craving and yearning that Boromir felt, the need for power to fix the ills of his people, the need for the reassurance to feel like his actions were making a difference, the despair that came from fighting so hard and not gaining any ground. Boromir would spill his heart out to Aragorn later that night, and Sam hoped he was nowhere near that discussion or he might be tempted to try and change something again despite the futility of his actions.

Galadriel’s gaze rested on him for a moment, and like Boromir, she spoke to him in his mind. _“You are unknown to me, all futures I see flow around you like an island in the middle of a river. I will not speak of your nature but instead, allow you mostly unburdened passage through my land for the time they are here.”_ She moved her gaze to Frodo and Sam breathed in relief as the crushing pain that assailed him dimmed to a manageable level.

That evening, they each drifted off to mourn Gandalf in their own way. Sam gathered up his bedding and lie down facing the wall. He heard Samwise composing a song, and then a few moments later, the scrape of a boot as the ranger left his pallet. He resolutely ignored the impulse to listen in on Aragorn and Boromir or wake up later to eavesdrop on Galadriel and Frodo and decided for once to just try and get some sleep.

It was past midnight when Sam awakened. He saw that Boromir still hadn't returned to his pallet. Despite his better judgement, he got up. He could feel Aragorn’s eyes follow him as he walked out into the dark. Intuiting where he would go if he was were the one despairing, he found his feet carrying him to the riverbank. There was outcropping carved under a low bower of trees along the path and he spied the Captain-General of Gondor there. He quietly sat next to the man, close enough that Boromir startled at his presence. Sam played the waiting game, staying silent until the man deigned to speak.

"Did you hear what was said?" Boromir asked.

Sam was feeling rather put out by the constant dull pain and the current circumstances. Everyone had someone here to provide comfort except for the man next to him. Gimli and Legolas were on their way to an epic bromance. Frodo had Samwise, Merry had Pippin, and Aragorn was completely at ease living amongst elves. If Sam had not accompanied them, Boromir would spend his days in Lothlorien feeling ostracised and alone, all the while despairing over the state of Minas Tirith. "By whom?" he finally replied petulantly.

"The elven witch," Boromir whispered.

"Yes," Sam almost snarled. The other man reared back slightly at the vehemence in his response. "She had no right to say those things to you. They are only what _may_ come to pass. You must believe there are always alternatives." Sam tried to convey how important it was without actually using his powers to force the man's will. He knew now that he could do it. However, the thought of using his amplified powers momentarily caused a spike of pain. He forced down an answering spike of anger with the knowledge that the witch's reprieve was conditional on his passivity.

"I said to Aragorn earlier that I could not feel any hope. In my mind, I can only see the city burning as hordes of orcs slaughter my people." Boromir turned to the river and Sam could see his eyes glinting with unshed tears. His face was already marked where he had cried in front of his future king.

Sam gave him a moment to compose himself before he said in exasperation, "Sometimes I feel like Cassandra."

"Who is she?" Boromir asked, looking at him oddly for the supposedly abrupt change in subject.

"In my world, there is a tale about a seer who was cursed by a spurned god to utter true prophecies but never to be believed."

"How can we believe you if you don't tell us what they are?" Boromir growled.

"I think with all things, that if I say them out loud then they are more likely to become truth rather than stay a possibility. However, not all truths are equal and everything stays a possibility until we know the events have come to pass." Sam stared at Boromir and hoped the older man heeded his repeated intimations and the uncanny sense that Sam was trying to tell him something.

They were sitting so close to each other that Sam saw every emotion that passed over Boromir's face. It was then, that Sam realised he could not help himself, not when the man looked so lost and lonely. Without thinking too much about the consequences and only because he wanted to comfort the man, Sam gave in to the moment. He leaned forward slowly, hoping Boromir wouldn't shy away, and chastely kissed him on the lips.

It was a few loaded seconds before the man pulled back and stared at him. Sam saw the moment Boromir connected everything. "You have been flirting with me."

"Quite shamelessly if you are to believe Pippin," he said gently, feigning nonchalance in case the man spooked.

"Is it common for the men of your world to engage in relationships?" the older man asked.

Sam still could not judge his reaction but answered honestly, "It varies from country to country. Some have leaders who are in same-sex relationships. Some countries still put people to death for it." He saw Boromir grimace and hoped it was from distaste and not because Gondor was one of those. He continued, "My country has mixed attitudes toward it. The law allows it, but in some places, the populace makes it difficult to enforce those laws, most of our religious institutions are violently against it."

Boromir nodded; his expression a mixture of bewilderment and introspection. Sam had not meant to make him feel worse but he felt being honest in this moment was important. He watched as Boromir touched his lips then shyly looked at Sam’s as if he was surprised at how it felt. Suddenly something twigged in Sam’s mind and before he could stop himself the question burst forth. "Have you had sex?" he asked candidly.

Boromir's jaw dropped in shock, but he recovered a moment later when he realised Sam had not asked the question idly or mockingly, but out of a genuine desire to know about him. Boromir knew much of camaraderie and social interaction since he sent a great deal of time around people, all be it soldiers. However, his experiences with romantic interactions were not so much and sexual situations even less. "A few fumbles in the dark," he muttered. "As the first son of the Steward of Gondor, it would not do to get a lady with child that I didn't intend to marry.'"

"And of men?'

"It is not done in Gondor." _‘Well, it is_ ,’ Boromir thought, _‘but it is frowned upon._ ’ It was impossible to be a soldier and not take some relief in another man during long months away from home. In his early days, those too had been furtive fumbles in the dark, fraught with the danger of discovery and garnered between breaks in fighting. Sam looked at him in disbelief.

"Sex between men is considered a folly of youth, or a tolerated indiscretion of soldiers too long away from women," Boromir conceded. "It is expected that once you are a man you should find a wife." He hated to think that the prevailing reason behind that was to have children. The number of men that died in the fight against Mordor thinned their population daily.

"Have you then?"

"Have I then what?"

"Engaged in the indiscretions of a soldier?"

"No, I am their captain-general. I would not take advantage of a subordinate like that." He did not mention that even when he hadn’t been he had not done so lightly. He had risen in rank quickly and the opportunities for such dalliances had disappeared the further up he went. He had to be on guard constantly from sycophants and those who would use aberrations like that against his father.

"Well, then what about a civilian?"

"It applies there too, men and women alike, they are under my protection."

"Think on it then, Boromir. You have a brother to carry on your family line and I am not a man of your ranks neither am I a citizen of Gondor. As for the general distaste for loving men, remember that your king was raised with elves and they do not care about such things, so neither does he," Sam paused. He leaned over and when Boromir did not draw away, he lightly pressed his lips against the other man's again. "And you have the favour of this reluctant king as well," Sam blushed as he pulled away.

Boromir grabbed his hand to keep him in place. “I will not deny that I have some feelings for you. I did not understand them at first as they were unfamiliar to me, but they are not unwelcome.”

Sam felt the tension drain out of him and he placed his other hand over Boromir’s, “I am only asking that you consider them,” he said softly.

Boromir looked down for several moments, studying their joined hands before he replied, "I mean no offence, but you are strange to others, even in your own world, are you not?"

Sam flinched slightly even though he knew Boromir did not mean to hurt him with the question. "Yes, why?"

"Because you thanked me for showing concern like it was not something you were used to. It seems like there is not much care for you in the world you came from, I would not want that for you here." The older man sighed, “If Aragorn becomes king, many things will change in a short amount of time. One thing that will take longest will be the minds of people. I do not care what others think, I have given everything for Gondor. However, you are unknown here, and I fear your foreignness will only add to your hardship. If he does not become king, it will be even worse.”

Sam smiled. Boromir was always thinking about others, his people, the hobbits, and now Sam. It was tragically unfair with Sam’s knowledge of his impending death. His resolve crystalised at that moment even if he didn’t realise it. “I can weather the intolerance,” he replied. “I was despised by my entire community for what I am. A nation of strangers’ opinions is nothing if I have a few true friends.”

Boromir released something like a sigh and squeezed his fingers. “I would like to hear you sing again when we reach my home.” Sam grinned with an enthusiasm he did not feel but nodded anyway. He leaned back and listened to the river murmur in the night. Boromir was quiet after that request but he did not leave and he did not let go of Sam’s hand as they sat there the rest of the night.


	8. Ask no questions and hear no lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you ask a question, the answer might not be the truth. Sam witnesses the breakup of the Fellowship and completely lies through his teeth about his intentions.

As they left, Galadriel bequeathed them each a gift. Before she addressed Aragorn, she stopped and stared at him. Sam spoke before she could, “I do not need a gift Lady of Lothlórien. I know the consequences of accepting such a debt."

He heard Aragorn inhale sharply beside him, but before the man could acknowledge the slight, Galadriel laughed. “Peace Aragorn, he is correct,” she returned gracefully. “It is good that he is wary of gifts since his own has only brought him sorrow.” She turned back to Sam, “You may accept or decline it with no repercussions, but my gift is a choice.” She spoke to him in his head again, _“You know what is before them, and none of your actions so far have altered their course. My gift to you is a change, one moment where the choice you make can alter anything.”_

Sam turned his head to observe the others loading the boat, his eyes seeking out Frodo then coming to rest on Boromir. Out loud he asked, “And you spoke to him about choice as well?” He saw Aragorn follow his gaze and draw his own conclusions. Sam’s heart twisted with the knowledge of what the day would bring, the words and their consequences.

Galadriel nodded, “The ring does not call to you the same way it does to others.” Once again Sam saw Aragorn twitch, and he simultaneously lauded and cursed the Galadriel’s obfuscation. The ring would fuel the temptations she had placed in their minds; Frodo's paranoia over Boromir taking the ring, and Aragorn’s coming words would fuel Boromir's fear for his country. Sam recalled the feeling he had last night when he had made plans for the future. He resigned himself to his fate.

“Then I accept,” Sam said gravely, as he dropped to a knee in front of her. She held out her hand, hovering it just over Sam’s bowed head. A whispered spell and a feeling of mild dissociation later and Sam rose.

Galadriel waved her hand and Sam bit back a cry of pain as she revoked her protection over him. “Whatever the outcome, Lost One, do not come here again or your suffering will be incomparable to this.” Sam knew it was an empty threat, she was going to leave soon for the Undying Lands, and the hold she had over the forest would diminish in time. He nodded anyway and weaved over to one of the boats. The sooner they left, the quicker the pain racing through him would end.

* * *

After Boromir's argument with Aragorn on the riverbank, Sam sat next to him in silent comfort. He hazarded to place his hand on the back of Boromir's gambeson. It wasn't a large gesture but it was accepted. "Would you go to Gondor with me even with though Aragorn opposes it?" the man asked quietly.

"He is not _my_ king so he has no say over what I do. I have endured the wrath of others higher and deadlier than him, so it is not anything new to me." Sam replied. "I am more concerned that you might regret your division with him."

Boromir looked at him strangely but did not comment in return. Instead, he grasped Sam’s hand again and held it until it was his turn on watch.

Sam dreamt later that night. He was standing in front of a flame of white light. A circle of holy fire surrounded him. The flame in front of him extinguished and the fire around him condensed into a burning circlet at his feet. After he placed the crown on his head, the flame once again kindled slowly to life. Sam woke with a jolt.

Curious eyes regarded him, "Bad dream?" Boromir inquired softly. The man sat brooding by the fire, still unhappy with the current circumstances. Sam saw the future king on watch and knew the man, as well as the elf nearby, could hear their conversation. Boromir’s outburst earlier made certain that Aragorn kept a close eye on him.

Sam hesitated a moment, the meaning of the dream could not be more blatant considering they were headed to Amon Hen. "No," he replied, "just a reminder of coming events."

Boromir startled for a moment, "I keep forgetting that you are a seer. Will you tell me what lies ahead?” Sam heard the desperation in his voice for some small comfort, but even that he could not give.

Sam decided to play the role if only to ease the bitterness he felt. He didn't lie, but like all seers let the vision be interpreted in its own way. "I dreamed of a light that vanished into darkness," Sam purposely looked over to Frodo, "and I dreamt of a circle of light that became a crown because of this sacrifice." He then looked towards Aragorn, and in a rather unforeseen moment of empathy, he thought about the sorrow the man would feel later. Sam tamped down his feelings and said, “Hope is with us.”

“I wish I could believe this,” Boromir replied. Sam felt a surge of sadness at his reply but he didn’t have a moment to dwell on it when the older man continued, “but he still hasn’t made that choice.”

The world narrowed for a second as Sam had a revelation. His heart almost stopped when he understood he had dreamt about _his_ choice. That all of his dreams had focused on _his_ choices and _his_ path in Middle-Earth. Sam’s rage was a supernova in a distant galaxy when he realised that yet another _shining one_ had manipulated him into accepting his fate.

The two that Sam knew were eavesdropping turned away, now uninterested about an old grievance. Boromir looked at him in confusion for a second before he asked, “Are you well?”

With the strength built from enduring the searing flames of Hell for centuries, Sam plastered on his most disarming smile. “I will be,” he replied. Sam didn’t see that from across the fire, Pippin recognised it for the gallows smile it was.

* * *

The next day saw Sam floating by in a haze of apathy and if the others noticed they did not comment. When they stopped on the riverbank for the last time he quickly stowed his pack away on shore and strode into the forest to await the inevitable. He watched Boromir give in to temptation, fall, then rise again with the knowledge of his actions heavy around his neck. Later, he would remind the Man that not even Frodo blamed him for his actions, he had not been himself. The Ring's whispers faded into the distance as Frodo moved away. Screams rent the air and Sam followed Boromir as he recognised the plight of the other hobbits.

Feeling strangely serene during the chaos, Sam let the entire scene unfold. Muttering strange words that unconsciously leap into his mind, he observed as the first arrow hit Boromir's shoulder. The orcs paid him no mind, they seemed to pass him by as if he was invisible. Lurtz walked past him and stopped for a moment. Sam stared at him and the Uruk snarled threateningly. Sam laughed and the creature shied away from him in confusion. Sam experienced a feeling of clarity as he realised his choice was looming near. He waited, hidden in the trees as Boromir fought to his death and the hobbits were spirited away.

Sam caught Pippin’s eye for a moment and saw that the hobbit looked between him and Boromir in horror. He put his finger to his lips and made a motion that he hoped the young one understood that everything would be okay.

It was breathtaking to see Aragorn charge into the fray, and Sam could understand how scores of people could follow his lead. He could understand how, at this moment, Boromir would pledge his loyalty to the Man who was the only hope for his nation's survival.

Once Aragorn kissed Boromir's brow, Sam moved from his hiding place. Legolas hissed, "Where were you?"

Sam didn't bother with an excuse. The elf's eyes were sharp enough that he had most likely been seen. "Watching a sacrifice, a light vanishing into the darkness," he replied.

Aragorn’s head whipped around at that. Sam intoned, "Remember in the future that 'the hands of a king are a healer’s hands.' I am a king in my land, I will do this. You go on ahead and save the hobbits. I will attend to him and bring him home." He tilted his head toward the river. Sam noted his speech was beginning to take on the same cadence that they all used in Middle Earth. He supposed it was just one more thing that indicated his fate in this reality.

"Can you heal the dead?" Sam heard the doubt in Aragorn's voice

Dispassionately, Sam answered, "I do not know. I'm going to do something very dangerous, possibly very stupid too. Maybe you will meet us again in halls of the Minas Anor or maybe even now he is passing through another hall into the unknown and I will join him there. Either way, it will not be until many months have passed that you learn our fate."

He could tell he had managed to shock the future king. However, Sam did not care, his window of opportunity was passing quickly. "You will be a wonderful king, should you embrace that destiny." The cat was out of the bag, he might as well tell Aragorn enough to get him going on his path.

"Was this the choice Galadriel gave you?" he asked.

Sam answered him seriously, stressing the misfortunes of a seer. "Yes. I know the outcome of this story, and I was never destined to be in it. This is where I part ways with your company."

Aragorn took it for what it was and walked away, heading to where Legolas was already looking at their journey ahead.

Gimli, who had spoken little to him throughout the journey, paused next to him for a moment, "You are a great fighter, and I shall miss your sword. However, I wish you luck finding your way back to your world."

Sam smiled and patted him on the shoulder, acknowledging the words gratefully. He turned away and concentrated on removing the arrows from Boromir's body and what he would have to do to get this to work.

Sam had a theory about what the Halls of Mandos were and how the Wall of Night worked. He barely remembered reading Tolkien’s other works as a teen, but he could extrapolate based on what he knew of the author’s influences. The movies did not touch on that subject, but since the entire world so far had been seemingly constructed on his knowledge base, he figured it was not too much of an assumption. Conversely, he was beginning to think that this alternate universe was a little more real than just a construction of his spell gone awry.

Sam very briefly entertained the thought that he could just leave it be, deliver Boromir's body and go on his way. With his luck, he might even meet the man's reincarnation if he ever made it home. Instead, he was about to attempt something very risky, all for what could be a crush on a man who in the future might not be able to endure his culture's ingrained homophobia.


	9. The end justifies the means

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A desired result is so good or important that any method, even a morally bad one, may be used to achieve it. Amon Hen is not Stull Cemetery and Sam is ever mindful of the word “yes” when asking consent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied, there will be another chapter.

Sam knew for this to work he had to accept something he never wanted. Looking back, he realised that he had accepted the inevitable in Lothlorien the moment Boromir had indirectly asked him to come to Gondor. It was different than his choice the first time, to accept his authority over Hell by agreeing to house its leader within him had been a desperate measure at the time. Cas might have removed Gadreel's grace, but Lucifer's grace was still in there. Cas would have not have seen it because it was fused into every cell of him, intertwined so seamlessly that it was indistinguishable from himself. It was not something Sam had ever told anyone and it was why he always felt a measure of dysphoria, the archangel's essence fused to both his body and psyche. He was somewhat displeased to have use of it now but bringing someone back to life required the abilities of an archangel. Sam had been juiced up since Moria and maybe he could leverage that power. The other thing was his assertion of being a king, even though he had referred to it several times, this would be the first time he acknowledged his birthright by using his powers. Sam suspected that the very fact he was going to try this meant that he had claimed his destiny.

"Oh, this is going to hurt," he muttered to the man's body next to him. At this point, everything and anything he did was winging it. The worst part was that he was going to have to hold it long enough to determine if Boromir even wanted to live again. Sam centred himself and looked for some sort of spiritual energy. A wispy thread leaving the man's body caught his attention, and just like extracting a demon, he yanked on it, trying to pull it back. Instead, he was pulled away from his body. Faster than he could even blink, he found himself in a cavernous foyer. He steadied his crown atop his head as he looked down at his clothes and shuddered. A pristine white suit distracted him from the flash of a snowy robe passing by at his periphery. At least he now knew that somewhere in the cosmos, something had acknowledged he had accepted being the King of Hell.

There were a few Men milling around, awaiting entrance to a door leading into a large hall. Boromir was one of them, but he looked quite confused to be there. However, the man moved towards the door as it swung open. "Boromir!" Sam called. He knew he had to get the man to come to him and not go through the door.

Boromir stopped and looked his way. "Sam? Why are you here?"

Sam startled as he realised Boromir had called out to him by his first name. "Yes, it's me! Do you want to live?"

Even as Sam spoke, a door appeared in the wall next to him. It called to him. _"Sire,"_ he heard a voice whisper. He had to tear his attention away, knowing what beckoned behind it. Sam resolutely ignored the thought that it might also lead home.

"Is that even possible? How can do that?" Boromir asked.

"I'm using my soul as an anchor to pull you back. You must say 'yes' if you want to go." Sam suppressed a grimace of pain as he struggled to ignore the draw of the other door and hold on to his connection to the other man.

Fortunately, Boromir seemed to understand at once what was happening. "You bound me to you? Is it permanent?"

"Only if you say yes," Sam held out his hand hoping Boromir would take it. "Do you want to live?" he asked the man again.

Boromir looked at the hall through the door and then looked at Sam's outstretched hand. He took a tentative step forward, then resolve hardened his features, he quickly strode the last few feet and growled out "Yes!" as he took Sam's hand forcefully.

It was like being hit with a truck, suddenly they were back at Amon Hen and Sam shoved Boromir's soul back into his body. There was blood streaming from Sam's nose, and fire seared across his every nerve ending but he pushed his pain aside as he made sure Boromir lived. Sam checked the man's pulse, it was weak and thready but gaining a little strength. He put his head on Boromir's chest and listened as Boromir took a breath, then another. Moments later, when Sam lifted his head, the man opened his eyes.

The first thing Boromir said when he regained consciousness was, "Your eyes... they are gold. I thought they would be black like before." He weakly reached his hand up and cradled Sam's face looking up at him in awe before he passed out. Sam wondered if his eyes would turn yellow later or if in his delirium, Boromir was just being gracious. Sam lowered his head back down to the man's chest. Boromir’s heart was beating strongly but very slowly. Sam collapsed onto the forest floor next to him. The last thing Sam thought before he lost consciousness was that he was grateful he was not alone in this reality.

Boromir was still unconscious when Sam woke up a while later. He sniffed at the surroundings and concluded that the needed to get them away from all of the Orc bodies. He put the unconscious man in one of the boats they took from Lorien. It worked well as an improvised stretcher, and it was light enough that when the time came he could drag it behind him down the side of the falls.

Once they were by the waterside, Sam cleaned and dressed Bormir's wounds the best he could. He noted that Aragorn had left behind a pouch of kingsfoil and Sam reasoned that it wouldn't hurt to try and use them. He had a feeling that even with the poultices and his powers, that it would be a while before Boromir would awaken. It would also probably take several weeks for the man to heal completely and weeks after that to regain his former strength.

Sam surveyed what Aragorn and the others had left behind. He loaded all of the leftover lembas and a couple of extra blankets in the boat. Then he loaded Boromir's pack and weapons in it just in case. It was slow going but he managed to get them both down the side of the falls with little incident. Once at the bottom, he cast off on the lake and hoped that taking the Anduin down to Osgiliath was safe. They would come uncomfortably close to Mordor and he was not entirely sure the city was still being held by Gondor. Hopefully, by then, he could find a horse to take them the rest of the way to Minas Tirith. He figured that someone would jump at the chance to aid the Steward of Gondor's son or that Boromir will have recovered enough to direct him toward those resources.


	10. Where there is a will there is a way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Determination will overcome any obstacle. Sam and Boromir talk about consequences on their way down the Anduin. Things happen that alter their course towards Minas Tirith.

The sun had just dipped below the horizon when Boromir awoke. Sam placed a hand on his shoulder to prevent him from sitting up. “Where are we?”

“Traveling down the Anduin to Cair Andros. We will stop here and camp for the night.”

“My brother, the Rangers of Ithilien are on the other side at Henneth Annun,” Boromir murmured.

"Yes, I know," Sam replied grimly. He noted that the man was still very weak, "I cannot risk revealing to him that you are alive yet. It would change too many things and we must make sure the Ring is destroyed." Boromir made a low noise of assent and drifted back into unconsciousness.

Boromir woke up once more at dawn as Sam was stirring the fire back to life. "Why is it that I can barely move a muscle?"

"You are still throwing off the effects of being dead," Sam explained grimly. "The arrow wounds will take longer to heal. It will be at least a fortnight before you can sit up on your own, and three or four months until you are healed enough to be out of danger. I've been using Aragorn's athelas to stave off infection for now, but at some point, I will have to forage for more. We will camp here for a while since no Orcs have a reason to venture into this part of the Entwash or Nindalf." Sam moved over and sat next to him. Boromir winced as he slid an arm underneath his back to prop him up. "After you drink this, go back to sleep, your body needs it to heal."

It wasn't like Boromir could argue. Even now, he could barely stay awake long enough to finish the soup and piece of lembas Sam fed to him. It went on like this for a few days. Boromir would wake for a few minutes here and there to have Sam feed him and then he would nod back off. It was frustrating to realise time had passed only by the position of the sun. A week went by in this manner before he realised that the time he was awake had slowly evolved into hours instead of minutes.

One evening, because Boromir's mind had been too idle and filled with melancholy thoughts he spoke, "This is a strange punishment, to die then to be brought back so impotent and helpless.

"Why do you think this is a punishment?" Sam looked at him in dismay.

"I failed, I succumbed to the power of the Ring," he replied, looking at Sam in confusion.

"You did not fail," Sam answered. "It is the nature of man to want. You realised your folly, and that is more than most men do. They keep going forward blindly thinking they know the best way. Remember what I said that first night in the forest? It is only wrong if you succumb completely and stop trying to do the right thing. You may have stumbled but in the end, but you tried to do the right thing afterwards. As for the Ring, it whispered to them all. Like Galadriel, it looked inside of you, then called to your desire to protect your people."

"Even you?"

"It tried, the Ring promised me something I knew it could never give me. That is how I was able to resist it. But your desires, it could actually make real and that why its call on you was stronger."

"What of the others? Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I see in you all the guilt you are holding, you consume it every day. Grief over the death of your people, guilt over your father's actions, guilt over not protecting Faramir, you pour out all of yourself for Gondor and the emptiness gets filled by your guilt and your grief. I was like that for a long time, maybe I am still like that now. But unreasonable demands can never be met, so maybe it is not a failing of yours but of others who put on you." Sam paused to gather himself back together, "As for the others, it promised Frodo an end to his suffering. The other hobbits were not swayed because there was nothing it could offer them that they didn't already have. Legolas is an elf, and they are naturally repulsed by evil things and Gimli, being a dwarf, was head blind to it."

"And Aragorn?" Boromir said challengingly.

"He felt it as strongly as you did," Sam said flatly. He could tell Boromir was going to argue again about why the other man didn't try to take the Ring so he continued, "It promised him freedom from his obligations, or alternately, an easy reign as king. The only difference between you and Aragorn is confidence in your actions and the fact that you felt a duty towards your people. This event has finally given both of those things to him."

They lapsed into silence for a while, the crackling of the fire the only noise between them. Finally, Boromir asked the question Sam was dreading. "What did the ring promise you?"

"It promised a way home," Sam sighed as he finally confessed. "The spell I cast trapped me here the moment I met the Fellowship. I suspect the Ring was trying to get rid of me because I am a threat to Sauron." Boromir looked as if he was going to inquire further but Sam stopped him, "It is not something to talk about in the open as we are now."

The other man nodded, several things coming together in his head that would be addressed later, then asked a second damning question, "Would you have died if I had not said yes?"

Sam huffed in morbid amusement. "Most likely," he answered reluctantly. "If you had entered the Halls then I would have died here in Middle Earth and gone to Hell." He supposed that if he had died at any stage in their journey he probably would have gone to his reality's Hell anyway, but it was pointless to say that now.

Boromir narrowed his eyes at that answer. It reminded him too much of the fatalistic outlook Faramir would adopt whenever their father found him lacking. "Have you always been so willing to throw your life away for others?" he asked carefully. "I would not have you do that for me. I would have you live."

"That was my thought for you," Sam returned. "I might have been that way in the past, but I think now I have something important to live for." He smiled softly, and Boromir blushed. They still hadn't talked about what was developing between them but the older man could not deny he found the thought of being with Sam very appealing.

* * *

They spent another week on the bank of the Anduin before Sam deemed Boromir healed enough to continue their trip. The man had a moment of panic one morning when he had awoken to find Sam gone. A few minutes later, the hunter emerged from the forest with a brace of coneys in his hands. "Thank the Valar, I was worried something had happened to you."

Sam grinned, "Thank them for the food instead. I was getting tired of roast fish and lembas. I set some snares. After we finish this we can pack up and move closer to Minas Tirith before Sauron sends his forces to take over Cair Andros. However, I'm not sure how close we should be to Pelennor Fields."

Boromir looked at him in alarm, "Does he succeed in taking the city?"

Sam figured there was no harm telling him anything of the future now. It was not as if the man could change anything in his current situation. "No, Minas Tirith never falls. Though, if I remember correctly Osgiliath is currently or will soon be overrun." Sam saw the discontent on Boromir's face and continued, "Do not worry, your brother is well and he fights for it admirably. There are simply too many of the enemies forces to contend with."

It had been fortunate that they had not run into Orcs or other creatures the longer their journey went. However, their luck ran out when they banked south of Cair Andros. Sam had just finished setting up their camp for the night when a group of Orcs ran through the copse of trees they had taken refuge in for the evening. Even though they were some distance from the Druadan forest, a group of Woses was pushing the Orcs back towards the river. He heard Boromir shout in alarm as an Orc rounded on him. Sam raised his sword to cut it down but something connected with his head and darkness overtook him.

Sam awoke slowly, he blinked as the roof of a hut came into focus. He groaned in pain as he turned his head to look for Boromir. The other man was sleeping on a pallet next to him. He sat up and noticed that their belongings were piled on the floor within arms reach.

The other man must have roused at hearing him move around, "The Woses rescued us and we are in one of their villages in the forest."

"Near the beacon of Amon Din?" Sam asked.

Boromir nodded. He glanced at the door then looked back to Sam. "They know who I am. As part of my training, I had often travelled through the forest to man the beacons."

"Is that going to be a problem?" Sam was reluctant to let anyone know they were alive until he was sure the Ring had been destroyed. Even though they were less than forty miles away from Minas Tirith Boromir was still too injured to do any fighting.

Boromir shook his head, "I asked if we could remain here for a while. They took one look at my wounds and agreed. They are simple people but welcoming. They are also rather knowledgeable about the healing arts and have many plant remedies. Occasionally, some acolytes from the Houses of Healing travel here to learn from them."

Sam let out a sigh of relief as he realised it was a stroke of luck that they ended up where they were now. By his estimates, Boromir would be healed enough to travel by the time Rohan marched down the West Road to aid Gondor. He turned towards him, "It does not bother you to be left out of the coming war?"

Boromir read everything Sam left unspoken in the question. "I have fought the forces of Mordor all my life. And although I am a warrior at heart, I know that it is not in my best interest at the moment. I cannot even move more than a foot without assistance, so wielding a sword would be impossible. I would not cheat death only to run into its arms yet again, and due to the circumstances my presence would probably only hinder rather than help. I was not even meant to be here."

Sam bobbed his head in agreement, "For now, all we will concentrate on is healing and avoiding any trouble. Future plans can wait until all of this is over."

Boromir shifted slightly on the pallet and grimaced at the sharp ache in his chest. "All I ask is that you tell me everything that you have seen so that I may not be completely ignorant once we return." Boromir breathed out in discontent, "I miss my brother, I miss my people, I miss seeing the white tree fly above the tower as I walk through my city."

Sam scooted over towards him and Boromir grasped his hand without a second thought. Sam's heart skipped a beat at the gesture and he couldn't help but babble out what randomly came to mind, "In my world, there is a white tree as well, it is called Yggdrasil. It is part of a myth of people who believe it connects the worlds together through its branches."

"Maybe it is a sign," Boromir replied seriously. "I would like to think it brought you here to me. I know that you said future plans should wait, but this is one thing I must insist upon speaking of, my future plans include you by my side." He tugged at Sam's hand pulling him even closer. Sam bent over his pallet and looked Boromir in the eyes before closing the distance. The kiss was brief but full of promise and when Sam pulled back Boromir was smiling in joy, "All will be well. Don't worry Sam, we have not come this far for it to not work out."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There might be a sequel to this about what happens when they return to Minas Tirith. I can't promise it will be any time soon. I would like to wrap up Sam's future as hinted about his morally grey nature and how it relates to the fact he is now a king without a country. As for his relationship with Boromir, I think that it would be interesting to see the steward's son help Sam acclimate to the new world he must call home. I would also really like Faramir to meet the man who fell in love with his brother.

**Author's Note:**

> Check out this [list for potential pairing and prompts](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1Chc8fTY1vfdprZWOa5gsyPp1RXjjx54W/view?usp=sharing). Please feel free to leave comments or suggestions.


End file.
